


My Voice is Back Home While I'm in Hell

by thiccbuckybarnes



Series: Betrothed & Bewildered [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Historical Romance A/B/O AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Bucky Barnes, Pining, Set in the Victorian Era 1837-1901, a/b/o dynamics, jane austen inspired, mentions of past minor character death, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:34:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23489914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiccbuckybarnes/pseuds/thiccbuckybarnes
Summary: James thought it absolutely preposterous that his father had decided to completely up-root the family and move west to the smallest possible village known to mankind.- -James’ perspective in the first part of the happenings of Love Me Tender Like What Keeps You Well.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Betrothed & Bewildered [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684999
Comments: 65
Kudos: 331





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well! Thank you all so much for the overwhelming support for the first part of this series!! It truly means so much to me that you liked it! I have been working on a project separate from this one but couldn't stop myself from posting the first chapter. I hope you like it!
> 
> This two-part fic will follow James during just the first chapter of Love Me Tender Like What Keeps You Well. I have more planned for this series(including a few shorter one-shots!), but I thought a lot was left out of Steve's point of view in the first fic and it may be fun to see the happenings from James' perspective.
> 
> This fic will probably make very little sense if you have not read the first part.
> 
> Title is from the song Private Presley by Peach Pit, and is the line following "love me tender like what keeps you well," from the first fic. :)

James thought it absolutely preposterous that his father had decided to completely up-root the family and move west to the smallest possible village known to mankind. Neither he nor Rebecca were very thrilled about this decision, especially considering their whole lives--friends, tutors, and extended family--would now be over seventy miles away. How could that possibly be beneficial for their family?

James was silent the whole two-day travel, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl permanently fixed on his face. When they stopped at an inn for supper and rest, he refused to speak to his father. George tutted at his immaturity but his mother just pet his head soothingly while her alpha scent was calm, though it did have a tinge of worry. He and Becca shared a bed that night, and they spent much of the evening under the covers whispering to each other about the unfairness of it all.

“I asked Miss Kirkland about the village,” she said in a hushed tone. “She told me it was barely a village of five and sixty. How could we possibly live in such a small place?”

“It's the countryside, too. So it’s nothing but pompous old rich families in their massive estates,” said James. “They’re just going to look down on our disposition. We may as well be servants,” he hissed. Becca agreed.

The rest of the trip continued to be unpleasant. When they finally managed to arrive in the village, James and Becca pressed their faces against the glass of the carriage as they passed. It was as if they blinked and the town was already behind them.

When they at last pulled onto the long path from the main road to their new home, James felt a number of mixed feelings. There was certainly more forest in this part of the world, he noticed. It was February, so the earth was blanketed in fluffy white snow. But still he could see the numerous trees and shrubs as they continued up the path.

At last, they pulled up to their new home. It was a pretty, brown-stoned home, with two floors. Five white windows sat on the top floor, and four windows paralleled on the bottom with large white doors in the center. On the left side there was an attachment covered in ivies, and shrubbery encircled the whole thing. Forests were all around them, and James found himself surprised to feel at ease in this new place. Never before had he been so encapsulated in nature, as Red Hook was a rather large city.

He shared a look with Becca, who seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

As they toured the house, James felt himself grow more and more open to the idea of living in this new place. He ran his hand across the intricately detailed railing on the upper floor, assessing the little designs he would soon come to know well. When he stepped into what would be his room--one finally separated from his sister, as the house was nearly double in size compared to what they lived in in Red Hook--he stepped slowly up to the window that faced the backyard.

Trees--so many trees. But he could see, far off past the tree line, almost the size of this thumb nail on a higher hill overlooking this little part of the world, a mansion.

“Captain Rogers lives a few miles down the road,” his father said behind him, nearly spooking him. He walked up to look out the window. “Ah, that must be his estate. What a pretty view from your bedroom, son.” James hummed in agreement, still not wanting to speak to his father in protest.

“We’ve been invited to Captain Rogers’ estate two nights from today. He’s apparently throwing a ball,” said his father. James did not speak, and when George finally sighed and patted him on the head before leaving, he found himself muttering;

“I bet he’s just as insufferable as this whole ordeal.”

~*~

The estate was exquisite. 

James and Becca had never seen such wealth. The manor was at least three stories tall from what he could see as their carriage was pulled down the long pebble lane. It had a lighter stonework than their own home, and stood tall amongst the rows of neatly trimmed shrubs. It was truly a mansion.

“Stuck-up country yuppies,” Becca whispered into his ear, which made him snort. Their mother flicked both of their noses before they finally made it to the entrance.

There were people everywhere. James felt underdressed, even in his best suit. He kept fidgeting, tugging his suit jacket tighter over himself as he climbed out of the carriage and looked around. It was a chilly night, but plenty of guests were outside by the entrance, along with several servants to attend to the carriages and greet the guests and take their coverings.

James felt his head spinning as they finally walked into the great manor, seeing people everywhere in dress that was much finer than he had ever seen. It was overwhelming.

The inside was even more beautiful than the outside, with white panelings on the walls, a grand staircase with beautiful marbled stone steps, and a gorgeous chandelier that James felt himself getting dizzy from as he stared up at it in awe.

He held onto Becca closely, and their parents guided them through the manor. In what must have been the massive dining area, several couples of people were dancing to the beautiful music made by the strings instruments. The scents of all the people were overwhelming, and he was assaulted with various smells of omegas, alphas, and muted betas alike. Each room they walked through was dimly lit in a golden glow, and all of the people were looking merry and cheerful as they conversed in groups.

His father was a few steps ahead of them, politely asking several people for the direction of Captain Rogers. Finally, they ended up waking into a large drawing room tucked further into the house. 

His father walked up to a hulking alpha of a man who was clearly nursing a drink and not speaking to anyone. And when his father approached him and introduced himself, James watched in amazement when the alpha’s face transformed.

It was like a flower blooming at the start of springtime, open and bright. His grin was beautiful, and he laughed softly before his eyes fell on James.

James didn’t know what his own face looked like, because he was suddenly frozen under the alpha’s gaze. It was like they were the only two people in the room, suddenly. Every other noise and scent had fallen away, and only the alpha’s gaze on James mattered.

As soon as the alpha had looked at him, though, he looked back at his father. His reverie fell away dramatically, making him feel silly in such a luxurious setting. His mother and Becca were then tugging him forward, and his mindless feet stumbled a bit before they were in front of Captain Rogers.

The alpha’s gaze was back on him when his father introduced them, and he gave a stiff bow before averting his gaze, feeling like the room was suddenly stifling. He frowned, listening in on the conversation between his father and Captain Rogers. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t like the way the alpha made him feel, confusing and odd. 

Becca tugged at his sleeve, and he looked over to see another girl standing behind her. She gave him an assessing look, and he just nodded. He knew she didn’t want to be here either, so it was good that someone was nice enough to introduce themselves to her.

Suddenly Captain Rogers was there next to him.

“Tell me, James. What are your interests, or hobbies? They don’t appear to be parties,” said the alpha. James was speechless for a moment; the teasing was so unexpected, but he felt himself smile at the humor.

"I really enjoy reading," he said, but then immediately felt wholly too ordinary in such a fine environment. His eyes flicked to the guests in exquisite clothing and neatly done-up hair, jewels draped over necks and wrists. He was very much aware of his shortcomings in such a crowd.

He realized that the captain had stepped over to his father to say something into his ear, and at his father's nod and wave, Steve returned to him with a grin.

“I understand not being a fan of parties,” said the captain, motioning for James to follow him through the crowd. James trailed after him curiously. “I’m not one to complain, but I confess it is one of the more tedious duties of being a gentleman," he said, looking back, and James felt himself ease at the words.

The Captain really was a handsome alpha. He had heard whispers from the servants at Ashbury Court that Captain Rogers was a widow, and that his wife had died only a few years ago. James hadn't thought anything of it at the time, as he thought it was easy enough for the wealthy to wed.

But now…

He observed as the captain stopped repeatedly as they wove throughout the house, shaking hands, laughing and greeting each guest that stopped him. Every time, the captain parted by saying he had an important task, and would look back at James and smile. He wondered, just then, why the captain was being so nice to him. He didn't think that people--especially those of higher class--would be so pleasant to someone like James.

James' family was by no means wealthy. George Barnes was a clerk, which meant he did various accounting and scribing duties for the banking institution when they lived in the city of Red Hook. Even there, they lived in a small two-bedroom home with only one helping hand.

When his father had made the announcement that they were moving, James couldn't think of anything worse. They were already poor, and he knew his mother and father economized on every possible thing they could to ensure that he and Rebecca were healthy and educated. If they had been just getting by in the city, where there was the most opportunity, then how would they live out in the country where all of the wealthy people lived?

The village of York was small indeed, but it was well kept and void of any unpleasant sorts of fellows. But most of what York was known for were the sprawling, elegant estates that housed the rich, either full time or as vacation homes. James could barely wrap his head around having enough wealth to one beautiful manor like this, let alone only having this manor as a summer home and more properties elsewhere. He couldn't fathom that sort of money 

The Captain finally led him down a hallway and away from the crowds of people. When they came upon the door to their destination, the alpha spun around and put his back to the door.

“Now James, I trust your responsibility and accountability if I let you in here, you hear? No bringing anyone in here to snog or swiping anything without my permission, yes?” the alpha was _teasing_ him. James couldn't believe his ears, and he felt himself rolling his eyes as a grin spread across his lips.

“I don’t even present for another two years,” he said, feeling his insides flip at the thought of anyone wanting to share a kiss with him.

“Who knows what kids these days get up to,” the alpha just said, laughing and turning to open the door. He motioned for James to step in first, and as he walked into the dark room, a light was flickered and suddenly--

Books. Books from floor to ceiling, so many he couldn't possibly count them all. The room was large, at least triple the size of his own bedroom at home. He spun slowly, taking in the rows and rows of old, beautifully bound books of all sizes and colors.

The library was enticing, like out of a fantasy. There were worn leather sofas and armchairs, a table with maps and things spread across it, a grand fireplace with a beautiful painting of a woman above it, looking over her shoulder and smirking like he had a secret to tell.

“Now, I dare say you may be able to find something worth reading in here. I do confess it is one of my favorite places to be,” the alpha said, and James spun around to look at him. 

The Captain stood with his hands behind his back, tall and straight and proper. His suit had not even a single wrinkle, despite the long evening. He looked to the side of the room, bright blues eyes scanning the shelves with a sad smile on his face.

James was enraptured.

He'd known the Barnes' for less than twenty minutes before welcoming James into a treasured place inside his home. James suddenly felt choked up and overwhelmed, his opinion of the alpha making a complete turn in seconds.

James quickly went to the shelves, picking up the first book and thumbing through the pages to seem busy, to tamp down on the emotions rising up his throat. How could such a man of wealth and esteem be so thoughtful to someone like James, the son of a lowly clerk?

"I trust you can stay out of trouble if I leave you to it? I’ll leave the door unlocked,” he said, and James looked to him again, at a loss for words.

Under his gaze, the alpha blossomed again, smiling bright, making James' insides quiver. When he finally nodded, and the Captain left him with a quick click of the door closing, James was left stunned in the silence. 

For everything he had anticipated, everything he had thought that he knew about moving to this place and meeting these people in his new life, were absolutely and completely wrong

~*~

Becca found him after an hour or two, as he was head first in the book he had picked it. He was enamored by the book; a love story about an alpha prince who had rescued an omega from a frightening beast. He was reading each line with rapt attention, feeling his heart beating in his neck as the prince slayed the monster just when Becca chose that moment to burst in.

"There you are!" She said with an ounce of frustration. She came over and plopped herself onto the sofa next to her brother. "What are you doing in here? You're missing the entire party," she said, looking around the room with a small scowl on her face. James felt himself get defensive and frowned.

"Captain Rogers gave me permission to use his library because I don't like parties," he said, hiding his book from his sister. She simply rolled her eyes at him.

"He insists on being called Steve," she sassed back, standing and looking around the room before settling her eyes on his with a frown and her hands on her hips. "And you're going to miss dinner if you do not put your book down."

He shrugged and went back to his reading. "I am not hungry." He hears her huff, say “Whatever, I tried.”

She was going to leave, near the door, when James spoke up. "What do you think of him?"

She stopped and turned, tilting her head a bit in confusion.

"Steve?" James nodded. She walked back over and sat on the sofa.

"He is nice. He's been by mother and father's side all night, introducing them to everyone who lives in a fifteen mile radius. He insists on having us dine with him until we are settled," she informed him. He bit his lip, averting his gaze from her.

"...it's an awfully large house to be alone in," he said, eyes dancing around the massive library. Even though the room was large, it was comfortable and lived in. He could see why it was one of Steve's favorite rooms, as you couldn't help but feel tucked away from the world in it. Becca hummed in agreement.

"I heard some guests speaking about him. His mother had died only a little while before his wife did," she said, looking at her feet. "His story seems like a sad one. Aren't alphas and omegas especially affected when their mates die?” She asked. James shrugged, looking into the fire Steve had started for him.

“I’m not really sure, to be honest. I can’t imagine the loss he must feel, though. All of this property and just some servants to keep him company?” He looked over to his sister, who was giving him a funny look. “What?”

“He seems happy enough, James. And he and father have made fast friends, I think.” 

“I’spose,” he muttered, looking back down at his book. “I’m not hungry,” he repeated, and heard her huff again and leave the room with the close of the door.

He ran his fingertips down the cover of his book, admiring the worn material. His head was running through so many thoughts, heart sad from Steve’s situation. He may not have physical monsters to fight, but he wondered if there was something big and scary haunting the handsome alpha than ran this lonely estate.

~*~

He hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep, but the gentle hand prodding his shoulder, the quiet, “James,” that was whispered into the room, proved otherwise.

He woke slowly, awareness covering him like a blanket. The fire was cozy, the sofa comfortable, and as he looked up into bright blue eyes, he felt at peace.

“James, I brought you dinner, if you’d like to eat,” said Steve, James nodded and pushed himself up into a sitting position.

“I’m sorry, This week has been quite hectic, and the fire is nice,” he said. It wasn’t an excuse, but it wasn’t entirely true either. He felt so warm and comfortable in this place that it lulled him to sleep, dreaming of himself as a knight running to fight off the demon that held Steve hostage. He shook his head to shake the cobwebs loose inside his sleep-addled mind.

“No worries, my boy. You’re more than welcome to sleep.” Steve went to step away, but James found himself asking, “Stay?”

He watched a smile take over Steve’s face, and James felt a little mesmerized by the sight of it. 

They end up talking as James ate. The plate of food tasted nice, and was still warm. Steve watched him with a careful gaze, almost as if he was watching to ensure that James ate every bite. He felt himself warm for some reason under the alpha’s eyes.

Steve asked him about his education, and what he’ll miss most about Red Hook. But they also talked about the beautiful greenery in this area, and Steve promised to take him horseback riding in the springtime so James could see how pretty the grounds were.

Steve was very excitable, and chatted away with him for some time before standing up to pour them both a drink. James felt rebellious taking the drink from Steve, sipping gingerly on the spicy, burning liquid. He had had wine on special occasions, but dark liquor was a treat. He did not like the taste of it one bit, but sipping it next to Steve made him feel older, more important.

“Steve? May I ask you something?” The alpha nodded, giving James his rapt attention. The mix of the liquor and Steve’s eyes on him was heady. He had to look away, otherwise he feared he’d be trapped under those eyes.

“I couldn’t help but hear the rumors…” He trailed off, suddenly feeling awkward for bringing up such a subject. If his mother was in the room, she’d flick his nose.

How could he even ask this of Steve? Wouldn’t it be too personal? But now that he’d already opened his big mouth, he _had_ to say something.

“Yes?” The alpha prompted, and James felt his insides shake from nerves. He did his best to work himself up to ask what he’d been burning to ask all evening.

“Well, I just--I wondered, are you lonely?” he asked, turning back to the alpha. Steve sat back a bit in surprise, lips parting and eyebrows raised. He seemed to consider the question, and really think about his answer. James’ heart was beating wildly in his chest, hopeful that Steve would ask why he cared so much.

“Yes, oftentimes I am,” he said, looking away from James to the fire. James doesn’t know why his heart sank at the answer; it was exactly as he had expected. Why was he so affected by the answer he had already known to be true?

“I’ve had the misfortune of losing many important people in my life, from family and loved ones to soldiers I commanded.” He looked back at James, trying to smile but not quite making it. It broke James’ heart. “But I have good friends, both new and old, and I had the pleasure of meeting the Barnes’ tonight which I am confident will cure some of my lonesomeness.”

Before James could think, before a single thought even crossed his mind, his heart willed him into action. He scrambled up to his knees, leaning forward on the sofa, body towards him, heart frantic in his throat. 

“ _I_ will keep you company, Steve,” he said, and as he spoke the words he knew them to be true. “I won’t let you be lonely too much. You’re so welcoming and kind, a man like you deserves to be surrounded by people to keep him company!”

He wasn’t sure when it happened throughout the course of the evening--perhaps the very moment Steve brought him into this room, gifting him with a reprieve from the party. Or perhaps it was even the first time he saw Steve, smiling like a flower in the sunlight. He didn’t know why this intense feeling was in him to flock to this alpha, to protect him even though James was a nobody; he was a poor clerk’s son with no real talents, nothing really going for him.

But a fire had been ignited in James’ chest. A fire that roared for this man, this stranger. He would worry, or feel doubt, expect as soon as James spilled all of those incredibly embarrassing words from his mouth, Steve lit up in the most _beautiful_ smile. 

“Okay, James. I trust you’ll take good care of me,” the alpha said, teasing. But James had made a promise, and he intended to keep it.

~*~

James turned seventeen on a Wednesday, and Steve insisted he had them over for a dinner celebration the next day. He felt spoiled by the good food and good company, and he made sure to spend extra time teasing Steve and talking to him throughout the night. The alpha seemed to glow under James’ insistent sarcasm and his poking fun, which made it all so much more fun.

Rebecca gave him looks all evening--and then, as the month wore on, she’d raise her eyebrows at him whenever he declared he was going to Allaheim. He ignored her the best he could, but even he knew that he spent far too much time at the estate.

He enjoyed his walk there, as there was a nice little path through the woods to the grand estate. As the snow fully melted away and the trees started to flesh out with leaves, Steve made good on his promise to take him riding around the estate.

The alpha showed him the entire property, which was sprawling. A small creek ran through the wood, and they’d take their horses there to drink. A few times they even went to the village, and James flushed as he and Steve walked about, thinking about how close they were. How James could simply reach out and touch him.

Steve was, as James had seen at the ball, incredibly pleasant to everyone he came into contact with. James wondered sometimes if it was just how Steve was; if perhaps James was no special case, that the alpha was so kind and generous to everyone and he was just humoring James.

But James had a promise to keep. He was determined to keep Steve company, and whether the alpha did see him simply as he would anyone else did not matter. 

He and Becca started studying with a tutor most days of the week, and James would stare longingly out the window, daydreaming of trekking through the forest and watching Allaheim appear on the horizon as the trees cleared. Becca would kick him under the table, and he’d feel his face heat up but not know why.

He also came to know Wanda very well, following her around the estate while she did her chores. He marveled at what little information she gave him about Steve, and she always gave him a knowing smile when he pestered her about what she knew, what he was like when he was younger.

At the end of summer, Steve told him with sad eyes that he had to go to the main town some twenty miles away for business. He begged, pleaded with his father to let him go, but his father just told him not to bother the good Captain. James was so upset he locked himself in his room for two days.

“He is leaving today, you know,” Becca informed him with a glint in her eye. James was mad, and did not speak a single word to anyone as he ran out of the house.

He ran as fast as he could down the forest path that took him to Allaheim estate. Sure enough, when he was close enough he saw the coach with horses at the ready, a few chests packed on the back.

Feeling his throat close up in a well of emotion, James tore across the long green field, the morning sun hot on his back. He ran across the pebbled walkway, and flung himself into the entry nearly running into Steve. He looked so surprised, but a smile crept across his face when James stopped in front of him.

Afraid he would burst into tears at the sight of him, James tumbled into Steve’s arms, holding him close. He did not want Steve to _go,_ two weeks being such a long time until he could see his smiling face again.

“I’ll only be gone two weeks,” Steve reminded him with a laugh, but a hand came up to pet the top of his head. “You know you can still come over every day. I’m beginning to think that Wanda likes you more than me, anyhow.”

At Steve’s teasing, he felt hot tears spill over onto his cheeks. He took a step back, trying to obscure his face from view with his hand. He said the first thing to come to mind.

“Just be safe, you pompous ass!” he said, and then turned and fled. He ran out of the foyer and back onto the pebbled walkway, listening to Steve’s laughter echo after him.

He ran and ran, and ended up near the end of the drive at a big oak that rested atop a small hill right before the forest swallowed up the road. He stood next to the tree, sobbing into the summer air, unsure of why he was so affected by this event.

Eventually, he was able to settle down, and he watched with a heavy heart as Steve’s carriage finally came riding past. He caught a glimpse of blond hair and blue eyes from the window, and felt his heart leave his chest.

When the sounds of the horses were too distant to be heard, he collapsed under the tree with the trunk to his back. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, looking down the path where Steve had left, hoping he would suddenly return.

Eventually, Wanda came to find him. She urged him to come into the house. He trailed after her listlessly, feeling severely out of spirits. She just smiled softly at him and brought him into Steve’s study. She settled him into a comfortably worn armchair, poured him a glass of freshly squeezed lemon juice, and handed him a thick binder.

“This is a secret,” she said to him, and motioned for him to look through it.

It was a photobook, he realized quickly. A thick photobook of Steve’s family. The pictures were in black and white, and some were very dim and blurry. But they were there.

He was amazed, looking down at the first page. It was a family picture of a light haired man, and woman, and a baby. Underneath it read: Joe, Sarah, & Steve Rogers. 1858. Steve was a very cute baby, and his mother looked regal and beautiful. He turned the page, seeing another photo of Steve as a baby, and then another, and another. Slowly, James turned through the pages of Steve’s life, seeing him grow through black and white photographs.

Eventually, he reached the year of 1880, just five years ago. He came across a portrait of Steve in his captain dress, and James found himself tracing the hard line of Steve’s jaw in the portrait. He turned the page gingerly, and felt his mouth open at the next image.

Steve, in his captain uniform again, next to a dark haired woman in a wedding dress. She looked beautiful; elegant, like his mother had in the first family portrait. They had hints of smiles in the picture, and he felt like a stranger suddenly, in this big house. Felt like a nobody.

He turned the page again, and there was another portrait of the woman--Peggy, he knew. Steve’s deceased wife. She had kind eyes, like Steve. James felt guilty looking upon her, knowing that at the time this picture had been taken, she only had a short time left to live. He turned the page again, and happened upon a loose folded piece of paper.

He opened it, and gasped.

It was a letter.

He looked around quickly, but Wanda had left him to his own devices. The door was shut, and no one was around to see him peeping. 

He looked down to read it. In looping, graceful script, was a letter from Peggy.

_”My dearest love,_

_I hate to leave you alone in this world, but I fear my time has come. I hope you know that you have made me so happy in our time together, my sweet. My only regret in this life is that I did not have more time to be with you._

_Steve, my time has come but yours has not. I see the way you sometimes, my dear, and I fear that you are giving up hope on life. Please continue to live, my dearest. It is not time for you to part from the world just yet. There is still a good life to live, and happy memories to make. There is still so much time for you, my love. Please do not waste it. Please live when I cannot._

_I pray you find another to make you happy, for you deserve all of the happiness in the world. I pray that someday soon, another will come into your life and make you as happy as you made me._

_With all that I am, I love you, Steve. Please remember me fondly._

_Your dearest Peggy.”_

James didn’t realize he was crying until his sob broke the silence of the room, and he quickly closed the letter between the pages so he could not get it wet with his tears. He set the album on the table before him, and pulled his knees up to his chest to cry into his folded arms.

He hurt so deeply for Steve and the losses he had, the emptiness he must have felt. He cried for Steve until his tears dried and his throat hurt. He sat in the armchair well into the day, and when Wanda came to find him with lunch, she clicked her tongue at his appearance.

They ate together in silence, and when she went to leave she picked up the album and kissed his forehead before leaving.

James spent the rest of the afternoon in the study, trying to soak up Steve’s presence from the liven-in room. Eventually, Becca came to find him, inquiring if he was going to return home for dinner.

“I think I may stay here, with Wanda,” he said, not feeling like he could bring himself to part with the only bit of Steve he had for the next two weeks. 

She rolled her eyes at him, but left him in peace.

In the evening, he roamed the halls of the great manor. He had spent plenty of time with Steve in some of these rooms, but much of the house was still undiscovered for him. He found several empty guestrooms, a portion of the house for the help to live in, and a curious room filled with canvases.

He walked in quietly, almost afraid to disrupt the quiet of the room. The walls were covered in paintings of what James recognized as locations across the Allaheim estate. He saw the creek that he and Steve had visited, an image of the gardens in the summer, and one even of the manor itself from the front.

A large portrait of what James recognized as Steve’s mother, Sarah Rogers, commanded the room. She was dressed in a pretty white gown with blue stitching and a blue bonnet on her head. She was draped over a settee and looked off to the side, away from the viewer, but with a gentle smile on her lips.

James felt a strange sense of understanding in him as he looked upon the painting. The intimacy of it was not sexual, but maternal. Steve painted this.

He turned to the middle of the room. There was what looked to be a canvas covered with a tarp sitting on an easel in the middle of the room, with a table next to it that had a variety of closed paints and brushes.

He stepped forward gingerly, looking over his shoulder. No one was there to stop him. He grasped the tarp and pulled it high enough to peek under. He found what he thought he may find.

A painting of Peggy. Similar to the photograph he had seen, she was looking to the viewer with a smile on her lips that indicated that she had a secret, fine brown eyes bright and amused. She was even more beautiful in color; her curled brown hair intricately pinned up to her head besides a lone curl hanging down to kiss her cheek. She wore a fitted red gown that pushed up her cleavage, her shoulders angled forward where he sat. The waist of her dress bloomed out to give her an hourglass shape even when seated. 

_This_ was romantically intimate, and James had to cover her back up before the well of emotions threatening to spill over overtook him. He took a few steps back, looking around the room. There was no indication that anything here had been touched in some time. James wasn’t sure why he felt a loss at that.

He left the room, leaving everything as he had found it. He continued to explore as the house grew darker. At the end of the hall he found Steve’s bedroom.

He felt guilty peeking in. He should not have gone in, but he could not help his curiosity. He slipped inside and closed the door quietly behind him. The bedroom held a large bed with a beautiful poster frame; four intricately designed columns rising at each corner. There was a wardrobe, and a set of dresser chests. A door was off to the side of the room that led to a very spacious bathing room, and a window overlooked the gardens in the back.

He eyed the bed, and curiosity took ahold of him as he took a few steps closer. The closer he stepped, the more he could recognize the comforting smell of _Steve_.

He crawled in under the covers, feeling the envelopment of Steve’s wonderful alpha smell. The bed was warm, and smelled so familiar and safe. He closed his eyes, and could imagine being held in Steve’s embrace. He curled on his side and fell right to sleep.

He dreamt of hands on his body, a strong chest over him, and lips on his throat. Electricity sparked down his spine and into his groin; never before had he felt such intense feelings. Vaguely, he was aware he was asleep, but the dream was too sweet to wake up. The hands caressed his body, touched him like he was a prize to be had. 

He woke up hard and ashamed of himself.

In the morning, Wanda found him. She looked the most put upon as she ever has, but James must have looked too sad to chastise. She fed him breakfast and sent him home.

In the following weeks, Steve had sent him letters but when reading his words, hearing his voice in his head, it made him hot all over. He wasn’t mad at Steve any longer, but he was instead ashamed at the dream he had had when sleeping in Steve’s bed.

He knew, deep down, it was Steve’s hands he was dreaming of. Steve’s chest, Steve’s lips, Steve’s scent. He didn’t know what to do.

One afternoon, a week later than Steve had originally thought he’d return, James awoke on the library sofa with Steve towering over him. It had been so long since he had seen the man, so long since he had smelled that comforting scent, he instantly latched onto him and couldn’t let go.

The warm, comforting feeling of being held by Steve was exactly as he had pictured it. He kept his nose tucked tight into Steve’s neck, breathing in that wonderful alpha scent. He felt like he could stay here forever.

Steve held him for a long time, and James wished to spend eternity in his arms.

~*~

He clung to Steve after that, hanging off his arm at every turn. He felt so drawn to him that he couldn’t look away, despite feeling ashamed for how much he _wanted_ Steve. Suddenly, all he could smell was Steve, setting his insides on fire. Even his mother’s own alpha scent wasn’t as comforting as Steve’s.

James wasn’t proud to admit that he was infatuated, but he _was._ He knew everyone else could see it, everyone except maybe Steve who still looked at him with his sunny smile. He wondered if Steve would still smile at him if he knew how deeply James’ affections had gone.

If Steve knew that he touched himself at the fantasy of Steve touching _him._

One evening, Steve was over at Ashbury Court for dinner. He retired to his father’s office after dinner after claiming to have something to discuss. After a half hour, James’ mother sent James to go ask the men if they wanted a slice of the blueberry pie she had made earlier that day.

James crept down the hallway, and saw his father’s office door cracked. He didn’t _mean_ to eavesdrop, but at the mention of his name, he couldn’t help it.

 _”James seems to be more affectionate than ever towards me,”_ Steve said.

 _“Well, Steve, excuse me for pointing out the obvious but you’re an alpha,”_ said his father. _“James will be presenting in a few short months when he turns eighteen. Maybe this is a sign of what his body is unconsciously trying to tell us.”_

James frowned at the words.

 _“You think he will present as omega?”_ Steve asked, and a lump formed in James’ throat at the tone of voice he said it with.

James didn’t know what designation he’d present as in March--he wasn’t sure if there was a way to tell. But why did it matter? If James was an omega, was that so bad? He had no qualms with any designation, though betas seemed to have the easier time considering they did not have any type of cycles.

But didn’t the ability to experience those cycles with a partner make them worth it? And from what he read, bonds between alphas and omegas were the most intense thing a person could experience. What was so wrong if James was an omega?

Unless.

He held his breath, listening with rapt attention.

Unless Steve was repulsed by it.

 _”“You’re clearly giving this a lot of thought,”_ his father said, and James had peeked in too far because his father was suddenly looking at him from where he sat, holding a glass of dark amber.

He didn’t call out to James, and instead fixed his eyes back on Steve.

 _“I think… whatever his designation may be, it may be smart of me to draw some space between us,”_ Steve said, and James’ stomach sunk, feeling the rejection instantaneously.

He turned quickly, and hurried away from the door as quietly as possible. When his mother asked him if the men had wanted any pie, he lied as said the door was closed and he didn’t want to interrupt their discussion.

Over the coming weeks, he watched helplessly as Steve distanced himself. He couldn’t believe his eyes, as that shining smile dimmed, all because of James and his stupid designation.

Because of his _ridiculous_ feelings.

Still, he got frustrated and demanded attention. Steve would laugh and eventually relent, pat his head, entertain him. But James knew, he _knew_ , that it was just pity. Steve was just pitying him, felt sorry for a silly poor boy with his silly little affections. It broke his heart, over and over. But he couldn’t help himself.

When Steve announced that he was taking an extended trip to town with Sam, James shut down. Steve was right--perhaps some distance between them will teach James that his feelings were not right. Perhaps he could force himself to give up hope.

His family noticed his depression, and his mother offered to write to his father’s cousin that lived in Paris. She said that maybe he could go there when the weather warmed up to gain new prospects. She saw straight through him, and smiled at him sadly.

James decided, after much crying and heartache, to relent. He went to Steve’s early again on the day of his departure, walking in feeling as if he were in a death march.

He came upon Steve and couldn’t bring himself to look at him.

“I just wanted to tell you that, uhm, I understand,” he said, forcing the words out and holding himself tightly. “I’ve decided to study abroad this summer, in France. So I’m not sure when I will see you again. But,” he said, and it felt like he was fighting his whole body to look and look at Steve in the eye. “I wanted to tell you, to be safe and uh, have a good trip.”

The alpha--kind, generous, beloved alpha--smiled sweetly at James and pulled him into a hug.

“You as well, James,” he said into his hair, and James cried, holding onto Steve tight. He tried to breath in deep, remember that perfect alpha scent. Upon hearing footsteps, he felt a well of shame and tore away, not looking back as he ran. 

He ran deep into the forest, and collapsed against a tree away from the path to cry.

~*~

The rest of the winter was cold and lonely. Steve wrote to him a few times, informing him of how he was, who he’d seen in town, and inquiring after James. The boy felt lost, torn between wanting to answer his letter, greedy to learn more of Steve’s time in town, but also knowing he had to maintain the distance that Steve had drawn.

If his heart were ever to get over Steve, he had to keep the distance.

In mid March, he turned eighteen and still hadn’t presented just yet. But he felt ill and untethered. At his weakest point, he made the trek to Allaheim in a daze. Steve and Sam were not due back until the end of the month, but James still felt himself hollow when he arrived at the estate to find it empty.

Wanda greeted him, and left him on his own. James did not even think--he went straight to Steve’s bedroom and crawled into his bed.

He slept fitfully, dreaming of hands all over him--Steve’s hands, touching him, feeling him everywhere. Holding him close.

He woke up hard and aching, and grabbed hold of himself in a daze. He made quick work of himself, his body already ablaze with desire and want, encircled by his alpha’s scent. He cried as he came, throwing his face into Steve’s pillow and inhaling deeply. He felt relieved for only a handful of moments before his body started to heat up again.

He realized, belatedly, that he had gone into heat. _This_ was what it felt like to be an omega, lost and hollow and aching for someone who was not there, and would not come to help him.

James hated it, and hated himself for being it.

Wanda found him, of course. He was crying on the floor, stomach rolling with shame at how he’d defiled Steve’s bed, his personal space. He felt disgusted with himself, but couldn’t pull himself away from the faded scent of Steve on the linens.

Wanda helped him to the bath with gentle touches. She, herself a beta, not affected by James’ heat. She helped him wash and brought him a hot drink that he urged him to drink. It eased the ache in his hips, and made him float for a short time.

When he came to, he was done up in a guestroom. Wanda informed him that she had called upon his mother to let his family know that he was here, going through his heat. He would remain here for the duration, and she would take care of him.

He cried in her arms, blubbering apologies, saying how much he hated himself for what he’d done, what he’d become. She only cooed at him and held him. Before the heat crept back in too badly, she brought him a well-used blanket from Steve’s bed.

“This is a secret,” she said, a knowing smile on her lips. He remembered back when he had said those same words when she handed him the Rogers’ family album. 

She left him in peace for the next several days, only coming in to check on him with meals and to help him wash in between. He felt useless, and awful, and like such a burden, but he was weak to his affections for Steve. He could not help himself as he held the blanket of Steve’s scent close, carrying himself through multiple orgasms as his heat tore through his body.

After his heat was finally over, he helped Wanda clean the room, feeling bad for everything he had put her through. By the end of the last day, they had everything cleaned and drying. No trace of omega heat was to be found.

The week after, James received a letter from Steve announcing that he was going to extend his trip. He felt himself shut down, not knowing why he was reacting to the news in such a way. What difference would another month make? His mother approached him after a few days.

“Sweetheart,” she said softly, running her hands through his hair. “Sweetheart, you’ve imprinted on him. You’re heartbroken because the omega part of you thinks Steve is your alpha,” he said, words not making sense to him. All he knew was that he couldn’t feel this way any longer--he wouldn’t survive. It was far too painful.

He looked at her, eyes wide, voice catching on his emotions.

“What shall I do, then?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the kind words, bookmarks, and kudos! It means so much <3 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this last piece regarding the initial get together! Future installments will officially move forward in their relationship.

Paris was lovely in the spring.

His first cousin, once removed, and her husband came out to York to spend a week with them, and then he and Becca returned with them to their home in France.

James knew he was being far too quiet to be polite company, but Becca and the rest of his family took pity on him. During the several days’ trip, Becca kept up with the conversation with their distant cousin. Clara, his father’s cousin, was agreeable and sweet, and her husband Henry said very little. When they finally arrived in Paris, James was exhausted but appreciated the scenery. 

Paris was a bustling city, even bigger than Red Hook. The architecture was beautiful, and the people on the streets were all dressed in fancy gowns and suits. It was like the scene from a book come to life; the people, the buildings, the atmosphere. It was beautiful and new, a novelty he never could have expected.

“Are you going to be alright?” Becca asked him as he settled into his guestroom. The environment was new and exciting; a blank slate with no trace of anything to remind him of Steve.

He turned to his sister from unpacking his things. Becca had just turned sixteen just recently, and he could see the young woman in her already. She was growing into a fine young lady, and James knew that Paris would do just as much good for her as it would for him.

“I will be,” he said, promised. His heart may continue to hurt from its brokenness, but this trip would do them both good. He was determined.

He would _make_ himself get over Steve. It was his only option for happiness.

Cousin Clara insisted on taking them shopping and taking a turn around the city with them. Many people did not speak english, but there were many that did. Cousin Henry was an Englishman that had moved to Paris for work when he was younger, and knew quite a lot about the city.

They explored the tourist sites to see, and enjoyed fancy cafes where they ate croissants and little decadent teacakes. They attended a party that reminded him so much about the one that Steve had hosted at Allaheim that first night they met that it made James positively ache.

They knew absolutely no one there at the party except for their two cousins, who dutifully stayed by their sides all night. James, a newly presented omega, garnered a lot of unwanted attention. 

At one point, a piggly older man that smelled of pungent alpha approached him when his cousins had left them alone for a moment.

“What handsome young specimen, you are,” he leered, dragging his eyes up and down James’ body. He was wearing one of his fine new suits that his cousin had bought him, and he suddenly wished to be covered in a hundred layers of cloth in order to shield himself from the prying eyes.

Thankfully, Becca stood in front of him, forcing herself between her brother and the stranger with fire in her eyes.

“We do not appreciate uninvited eyes,” she bit out, and the alpha just laughed and kept his beady eyes on James. It felt so _wrong_. 

“It is hard for a smell that sweet to not be inviting,” he countered, and took a few steps to be closer to James.

The omega’s skin positively crawled, nausea rolling through his stomach. He felt himself sick, and flinched away from the alpha. He grabbed Becca’s hand, and made a quick apology before running into the crowd of people, away from the alpha. They weaved throughout the crowds, not looking back one glance.

They somehow found themselves outside and out of the hot ballroom. They ran to the side of the building, and James rested his hands on the wall as he heaved.

His sister patted his back gently as he gagged, tears springing in his eyes.

“James, it will be okay,” she said gently. He shook his head, gasping for breath and trying to keep his dinner down.

“I want _Steve,_ ” he cried, tears streaming down his face. Becca made a sympathetic noise, and held onto him. “It is not _fair_ ,” he cried, “Why doesn’t he want me?”

Gods if he were mated, no sleazy wandering alpha’s eyes would fall on him. If felt wrong, traveling around the world unmated and untethered. Even if Steve didn’t want him, he was sure the alpha would keep others from advancing on him. He was no traditionalist; he didn’t need a big strong alpha to protect him, but by gods he wanted one--but only one. Only Steve.

Because Steve would have kept him safe.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, rubbing his back.

He continued to cry, disgust for himself mixing with shame. He was so embarrassed at how he reacted, how he had _ran_ out of the party. But the man’s smell was all _wrong,_ pungent and disgusting. He had never wished to have Steve’s scent again so badly in his life. What he would give to be home in Allaheim, sitting on the sofa of the alpha’s study, watching him work.

If this was what life was going to be like as an omega, he didn’t want it.

After a while, his cousins finally found them. He felt awful for worrying them, but Becca explained how an alpha had approached James and made unwanted advances. They understood, and hurried the two of them back to the safety of their home.

Cousin Clara apologized, and vowed to keep James’ purity while he was here. She insisted that she’d protect him from unwanted advances, but he knew they would be moving into the University’s dormitories soon. There was little she could do to protect him there.

He knew, of course he _knew_ , that omegas were often victim to unwanted advances. In the bad parts of towns, omegas could be forced upon. The world was a dangerous place, especially for newly presented omegas. 

But there was nothing James could do. In order to keep himself safe, he would not attend anymore parties without supervision. He wouldn’t go out at night, and would stay close to Becca during the summer semester. No one would touch a child that hadn’t presented yet. But James--James was at risk.

Becca promised him not to say anything to their parents. Instead, they wrote letters back saying the party was lovely, but they were excited for their summer programs to start. If their parents had known about the alpha that made advances on James, they might implore their cousins to send them home.

James wondered--what would Steve think? Would he be angry? Protective? 

Would he urge James to meet someone? James couldn’t stomach the thought of Steve telling him to be with another. The thought of being intimate with another--another _alpha_ \--made him physically ill.

Far too soon, their time with their cousins came to an end. In their last week with them, cousin Clara took them for a tour at the University. They met with a few of their professors that they would be taking courses with, and explored the dormitory that James and Becca would be staying in.

They were able to secure a two-bed suite that James and Becca could stay in together, and the security of the building gave them both comfort.

The day before they were to move into their new suites, cousin Henry gave James a letter that had arrived for him.

It was from Steve.

He hadn’t written to Steve in the entire time they had been separated, feeling ashamed of himself. What could he possibly say? That he was in love with him? That the whole point of coming to Paris was to rid himself of his affections for Steve, and it was going horribly? 

But oh, how he had missed the man. Even though James was hopelessly in love with him, Steve had first and foremost been a friend. He sat down on his bed amongst his open suitcases, feeling his heart racing in his chest as he opened the letter.

_My dear friend James,_

_How are you? I imagine Paris is very diverting. I am sure you will make wonderful memories and friends. It must be so exciting, and I am very happy that you are able to experience it. I look forward to hearing of your adventures._

_Sam and I have returned from our long trip. I confess I am thrilled to be home where I belong. The sea on the western coast is a beautiful thing to behold, but nothing is quite as good as sitting in my gardens in the springtime._

_The house is rather empty without your smart mouth. Even Wanda seems to be a little out of spirits without your companionship. I hope you will visit us upon your return._

_James, I am sorry for how we left things before my departure. I want to assure you that you have done nothing wrong, and have no reason to worry about our relationship. Please know I am eagerly awaiting your return._

_I hope to hear you making your usual racket in these quiet halls again soon. Stay safe, and have lots of fun so that you can give this old man some sense of entertainment._

_Your affectionate friend,  
Steve Rogers._

James read the letter several times, eyes hungrily taking in every word. He surprisingly didn’t feel emotional. In the least, not sad, not wanting to cry. Instead, he felt happy to finally hear from Steve again, to hear his voice in his head, to be teased again.

It gave him hope. Perhaps not for his affections to be returned--he couldn’t hope for that. But at least it gave him hope that Steve was still his friend.

He sat down to write Steve back, but found himself pausing. What would he say? Paris was beautiful, their cousins were wonderful hosts, and some strange alpha sent him into a panic because he was in love with Steve?

He started writing a handful of times, but his own words looked foreign to him. He’d scribble out his draft, crumble it up, then dunk his quill back into the ink only to halt. The words burned in his throat, begged to be written; _I wish you were here with me._

He realized he could not write Steve without lying, without holding some kind of truth, and decided that he therefore could not write to him at all.

James and Becca moved into the dormitory on a Sunday afternoon. There would be an orientation later that evening where all of the summer students could meet one another and be officially introduced to the faculty. He and Becca took to touring the campus more extensively, and happened upon a happy little park behind the University with a small forest of trees and a path to walk through.

They spend their free time there, laying underneath the trees and talking about nothing important. They did an awful lot of people watching and counting how many clouds were in the sky. Becca seemed to be enraptured by the fashion of the women they would walk by on the path, and they’d make commentary at each new and fabulous gown they would see.

James couldn’t help but feel more at home there in the lightly wooded park. If he laid underneath a tree and closed his eyes, he could almost fool himself into thinking he was in the grounds of Allaheim.

The grand belltower chimed at five o’clock, and they made their way back to the main hall for the orientation meeting. When he and Becca finally arrived, just ten after, they were amazed at how many students were there.

They were still early enough to find a table to sit at. It was already half fall, but the occupants smiled and motioned them to join them.

“Hello there! My name is Clint, and this is Natasha. What are your names?” a blond haired boy said. James bowed his head.

“James, and this is my sister Rebecca,” he greeted.

“Nice to meet you,” Becca said.

They traded class schedules, and James found that he shared both of his classes with the two of them. Becca was younger than them so she was in a different level of schooling, but she made friends easily enough.

A few minutes before the orientation was to start, Natasha seemed to perk up and wave someone over. James felt the seat next to him fill and he turned to see a bright-eyed omega with wildy dark curly hair sit next to him.

“Darcy! We thought for sure you would be late,” Natasha hissed. The omega just laughed, and laid her eyes on James.

“What’s with the ruckus? I’m here, aren’t I?” She says as easy as ever, just as her eyes trailed up and down James, and then his sister next to him. “You guys made friends. Hello, Darcy Lewis, at your service,” she greets, extending her hand out to shake. James felt odd, touching a person he didn’t know, but perhaps she was from a different country where personal contact such as this was okay?

He and Becca introduced themselves, and Darcy went to talk more but the administrator of the program stood up then to announce the start of orientation.

They had multiple presentations about the University, the program, and what the summer students could expect in the coming months. Repeatedly, Darcy and Clint made little comments under their breaths making fun, and James found himself smiling at their shamelessness.

It had been a while now since he had been with others his own age, as York was very small and living in the country did not give them much opportunity to be in contact with others. The three of them were a lot of fun, though. Becca definitely noticed his raised spirits, and made such a comment that night when they were getting ready for bed.

“You seemed quite taken to the omega,” she said, pulling the covers over her once she climbed into bed. James was sitting at the shared vanity, braiding his hair to sleep in. It was getting even longer than before; now almost reaching his shoulders. He couldn’t help but wonder if Steve preferred long hair or short.

He watched himself in the mirror, wondering what kind of features Steve preferred in a partner. Peggy was an elegant, lovely-looking woman, but he didn’t think he knew what designation she was. Did Steve only like omegas, as many alphas did? Or was he more modern, and liked alphas? James flushed deeply, thinking of all the kinds of people Steve may be attracted to, may have been intimate with.

He felt jealously at the thought, of course. But he also felt hot on the back of his neck.

“I haven’t met an omega my age since I presented,” he said, and turned to her while pulling his legs up on the bench to hug his knees. “She’s very funny. They all are. I can’t imagine this summer will be very dull if they will be with us.”

She tilted her head, studying him.

“How many times have you thought about Steve today?” she asked, and James felt himself frown.

“Probably too many,” he replied, feeling a bit defeated. Even with the several months of separation, including this first month in Paris, he still could not get the alpha out of his head. Becca made a sympathetic noise, and watched him finish up before climbing into his own bed across from hers.

“Maybe soon it will get easier,” she said, sounding like she was at least trying to be optimistic for him. He tried to smile for her, tried to be assuring, but it was challenging.

“We shall hope, shall we?”

~*~

The first week of classes went by rather quickly. He met a few others, including another James. A second James in their class prompted Darcy to insist on making nicknames for everyone. She pointed at James, and demanded to know his full name.

“James Buchanon Barnes,” Becca replied for him, a teasing tilt to her smile. 

“Buchanon?” Clint asked, laughing. James felt himself blush.

“It’s a _family name,_ ” he insisted, looking away. Darcy then plopped down next to him, eyes holding that playful sparkle they always had. 

“Don’t be such a damper, _Bucky,_ ” she said, nudging his shoulder dramatically. He couldn’t help but smile back, ducking his head and shaking it in disbelief. 

“What a gods-awful name,” he said. Darcy just beamed.

“Well it is _your_ name now, isn't it?” she said with a laugh.

From then on, all of his University friends called him Bucky. Even Becca got to using it, and when they had supper with their cousins the first Saturday after classes started, Cousin Clara was incredibly confused about who the hell this Bucky fellow was.

Their classes became challenging quickly enough, and they couldn’t spend the whole time larking and causing general mayhem on campus. James found himself enraptured by his lectures on history and political science, and he spent a considerable amount of time in the University library when Darcy was not dragging him everywhere with her. Becca would give him a look that said she knew he was dreaming of the Allaheim library even when in a place that had a thousand times the number of books Steve did.

But his lessons--they were an experience like he had never had before. Even when they lived in the city of Red Hook, he had short lessons with tutors that would only teach a handful of them at once. Oftentime, it was just he and Becca like they did in York.

But here at University, it was a _lecture._ The professors had experience in the fields they were teaching about; had published work, and could answer vast amounts of questions. Darcy would poke fun of him for _always_ asking questions, but he couldn’t help it.

Roman and Greecian politics were so interesting, learning about the French Wars of Religion had James practically on the edge of his seat. And that’s not even mentioning his learning about _Africa_ and all of the countries and colonies there. James realizes how much he didn’t know--the world was so vast, and the historical richness so deep. He wanted to immerse himself in learning and never surface.

He and Becca continued to write letters home telling their parents about what they were learning, who they had made friends with, and what shenanigans they would get up to on weekends. James still hadn’t found the courage to write to Steve, but he decided it was for the best.

He still missed the alpha terribly, but he found a great deal of comfort from being around Natasha, who was an alpha, and Darcy, his omega friend. Darcy was not much older than him, but she did present before him and would often give him glimpses of what being an omega was like for her. He took it all in hungrily; eager to know what her experiences were so that he could compare and possibly not feel so badly about himself.

One afternoon, he and Darcy were lounging around in a common area of the dormitory. An alpha male walked past, obviously scenting the air, and leered at her. She rolled her eyes and scoffed at him, and then very dramatically got up from her armchair to sit next to James on the sofa where she threw her arm over him.

James flushed a deep red, but Darcy just laughed while the alpha made a look of disgust and walked away.

“Oh, get your knickers untwisted. I know you’re spoken for,” she said, and relaxed into the sofa. James frowned at her words.

“I am not spoken for,” he said, but looked back to the book in his lap. He hadn’t really been reading it very intently, instead daydreaming about horseback riding in his favorite part of the world.

“Oh really?” She asked, but it didn’t sound like she believed him. He turned to her.

“Well, there _is_ someone,” he confessed, and she bounced forward with an, “A-ha! I knew it!”

He sighed at her bubbling energy, himself feeling a bit tired from the depressing subject. “But we are not attached. I have just been stupidly infatuated with an alpha that sees me as nothing more than an annoying younger sibling.” She frowned at his words.

“What has he done to suggest so?”” she asked, genuinely curious. 

He leaned back, closing his book and filling his lungs with a heavy breath of air. He could tell Darcy very little; skim over the details, hide his shame away. But Darcy had proved to be a good friend over the last several weeks. The summer program was nearing its end; there was but a few short weeks before the eight week course was over.

There was no one else in the room; the warm afternoon sun ensuring that everyone their age was outside enjoying the weather. He looked to her, into her blue-green eyes that were drawn in concern. He gave her a small smile, but knew it looked rather weak.

“When I started to show signs that I would present as an omega, he took it upon himself to put as much distance between the two of us as possible,” he said with a wobbly voice. He looked away, not sure if he could bear to see her falling expression. “He made it well known that he did not want anything to do with me once I presented omega.”

And he had, hadn’t he? James had been fooling himself when he thought it was okay to cling to Steve; the alpha had clearly been uncomfortable, even if he hadn’t shown it. And why wouldn’t he be? He was in love with his dead wife, tortured by the unfairness of life. He didn’t want or need some neighborhood boy like James to be hanging all over him.

Darcy was quiet for all of ten seconds.

“Doesn’t that precisely mean he _does_ care for you, though?” she asked, making James pause in his wallowing. "An alpha that separates themselves from a person soon to present as an omega is very respectable, I think."

James shook his head. "No, he completely detached himself from me," he insisted.

"Tell me," she commanded, and he did.

He told her about how he had met Steve, how he had seen how lonely the man was. He told her how desperately he wanted to keep him company, and how he cling to the alpha as he grew older. 

He told her about overhearing that fateful conversion in his father's study. How Steve had tried to grow distance between the two of them, only to fail at James' insistence and be forced into deciding to separate himself from James wholly and entirely.

Darcy listened with rapt attention, her pouty lips no longer smiling. When he was done retelling the tale, his eyes wet and voice a hushed whisper of pain, she placed her hand on his.

"James," she said carefully, eyes searching his. "I am but an outsider here, but to me it sounds like he withdrew from you because he cares for you very much."

James shook his head almost violently, a small cry escaping his lips.

"Do not teach me to hope," he begged, grasping her hand covering his. "I can hardly bear it now, any more hopelessness and I fear I may break in two."

Tears slipped down his cheeks, and Darcy shushed him gently, relenting and pulling him into an embrace.

He cried into her shoulder, comforted by her delicate hand in his hair and her soft omega smell. He wished with all of his being that it could be Steve there shushing him and drying his tears. But he knew he was long past being able to wish for such things.

The weekend before the final week of classes, the students in their dormitory decided to throw a party. It was secretive and not exactly allowed, but somehow they were able to secure a floor of the dormitory after hours without any supervision.

Someone had brought on liquor, and several variations of debauchery took place. 

He, Becca, and the rest of their friend group spent their time in one of the back corners, commandeering a collection of sofas and armchairs arranged before a fireplace. He and Becca had a few glasses of wine, swearing eternal secrecy to one another that they would _never_ tell their parents of the mischief they were getting themselves into.

At some point, someone took over the pianoforte and started playing jolly music everyone could dance to. One of Becca's friends took her for a round of dancing, and Natasha and Clint did their own turn leaving just Darcy and James.

"Don't look now, but I think Gregory is making eyes at you," she said in what she probably thought was a whisper but was actually rather loud. 

James fell forward, laughing and trying to shush her. He felt loose and happy, good in the way that alcohol made you feel. He sucked his head, trying not to look over at the beta but found his eyes trailing over at him anyways.

Surely enough, Gregory _was_ looking at him. He smiled and bowed his head a bit, prompting James to do the same in return.

But he looked away, mind wandering. He could go speak to Gregory--he was kind, and was from a respectable family. 

Darcy stood and grabbed his hand, pulling him from the sofa. James tried to protest, but Darcy was insistent. She dragged him over to Gregory who was standing by a window and talking to another boy named Franics. Darcy, apparently knowing Francis, asked to speak with him, leaving James with Gregory.

He gulped, looking up at the beta. He had a muted smell; nothing different than what an underage child would smell like. He raised his glass and clinked the one in James’ hand.

“What a semester, eh?” Gregory asked, trying to make conversation.

“Oh! Yes, it was very diverting while it lasted,” James said, looking around the room for some help, but one of his friends were in sight.

They continued their stunted, awkward conversation. This was not easy at all--and though Gregory looked at him like he was interesting, like he wanted to hear what James had to say, none of his words came out right.

It was nothing like with Steve. With Steve, he could make fun of the alpha all day and Steve would just bite back and ruffle his hair with a wide smile. With Steve, it was so _easy._ He missed the ease of talking with the alpha, of being able to sit around in his presence without even having to say anything.

Gregory didn't light his insides on fire like the alpha did. No matter how hard he tried to picture being with Gregory, think of flirting with him, perhaps kissing him, he felt a wave of _wrongness_ wash over him.

Darcy seemed to know what he was thinking, because not a moment later she returned with Francis to rescue James from the awkward conversation. They took their leave, and she rubbed his shoulder in understanding as they walked back to their claimed area.

"It's alright," she said. And he knew it wasn't. The whole reason for him coming to Paris was to participate in this separation, to help himself get over Steve. 

But it just hurt his heart more. The distance made him hurt. 

But he made wonderful friends, and he couldn't help the laughter that bubbled out of him when Clint came stumbling back and falling onto the floor, sprawling in front of the fire. 

Even if he unknowingly sealed his heart to love Steve forever, he at least learned that he could love people in other ways. Love them as friends, love them as companions. 

Even if it could not heal his broken heart, it gave him a comfort that was unexpected but unconditionally welcome.

~*~

The time came to go back home, and it was both too soon and not soon enough.

However anxious he was to get back to his parents, to _Steve,_ he did not want to leave his dear friends. On their parting day, they hugged each other all very tightly, with Darcy hugging him the tightest and making him promise to write. She demanded that he speak with Steve, and to give her updates on anything and everything.

The trip home was long and exhausting. Their cousins sent him home in their own coach with their own help, but James and Becca still felt very anxious at the thought of being robbed or taken. They promised each other to never, ever take a trip like this again without their parents. It was all too worrying.

Finally, after what seemed like months of travel but was really only a week, they were at last back to Ashbury Court. They arrived too late in the evening for James to find a reasonable excuse to go see Steve, so he put it off until the next day. He wanted to see his parents, anyhow. It had been far too long.

In the morning, James slept in, having desperately missed his own bed. It had been some four months since he had slept in his own bed. He tried to pace himself; he couldn’t rush over there before he had had breakfast, and then he convinced himself to help his mother with some remedial things about the house. Finally, when it was past noon, she grabbed ahold of him by his shoulders.

“James,” she said with the knowing smile, leaning in. He smelled that comforting alpha scent. “Go on. He’s missed you. You’ll be welcome,” she said, and turned him around to give him a push.

His legs felt like lead the entire walk there. For months he had been daydreaming about walking back through these woods, down the little trail that connected Ashbury Court to the great estate of Allaheim. He had been longing for this walk for so long, to walk through the cocoon of trees and singing birds, and now he found it to be one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

Eight months was a long time.

He felt older, though. More weathered. He was returning to Allaheim with a better understanding of himself, and of the world. He was determined to do better, be better. 

Better for Steve, however the alpha needed him.

He arrived at the door, and Wanda greeted him there without him even having to knock. She threw her arms around him, laughing in his ear.

“He has been an absolute mess without you here,” she whispered to him conspiratorially as she walked him through the house. “Really, you two are rather ridiculous. Please make it so he stops moping all day long.”

They arrived at the library, and as James peaked in he saw what she meant. Steve looked… haunted. Like the life had been drained from him. His short blond hair had overgrown and was in disarray, his eyes dark like he hadn’t slept in days, and his chin was sprinkled in several-days worth of stubble that made James a little hot under his collar.

When he stepped into the library with Wanda’s announcement, those blue eyes were finally on him again. Steve’s mouth opened, like he was amazed at seeing James here, like he couldn’t quite believe it. He tried to keep himself standing up straight, trying to get Steve to see that he was a _man,_ a proud man, a mature man.

“Gods, you look like shit,” he said to him, speaking the truth. He thought for a moment he had offended the alpha, but Steve just tipped his head back and laughed, _laughed_ , so brightly and beautifully. 

He practically scrambled out of his armchair, closing the distance between them in only a few long strides. James had forgotten how tall Steve was, how big he was. Even looking like he had just gotten back from war, he was still as large and beautiful as ever.

He witnessed Steve hesitate when he reached out to touch him, but the hesitation was quickly overtaken because he pulled James into a hug, pulling James to him like a wave of water crashing into him. James melted into him, breathing him in deeply and perfectly. He’d missed this smell, these arms, so terribly much. Not for the first time, he thought about how much he wanted to spend eternity in those arms.

Steve pulled back, holding him by his arms and getting a good look of James.

“I missed you, my friend,” he said, and James had to look away from those open and honest blue eyes. He felt he might drown in them.

“I missed you as well,” James confessed, and gazed back up at the alpha. The grin he received for his words was utterly breathtaking, and made the entire separation completely worth it.

James practically fell back into his old routine, but he attempted to give the alpha some space. He still spent many days out at Allaheim, but some days he would walk the grounds with Wanda or Becca rather than announce his presence to Steve. The alpha still had them all over for Friday night suppers, and things were good enough between them to continue to read silently together.

James’ recent education sparked a hunger for more than just fiction literature in him, and he viewed the Allaheim library completely differently. He sought out political books, and books about history, rather than only sticking to his usual fiction. It was no Parisian library, but he quite frankly preferred Allaheim to anything in the world.

The omega actually found himself quite at peace with everything. He still ached to touch Steve, to see him every day, and still had dreams about the alpha touching his body all over, kissing him, holding him. But these fantasies were more manageable knowing he could still be close to the alpha. Even if his ache would never be satisfied, never fulfilled, he could still find happiness.

That was, until his father made the announcement that his new employers were having to let him go. George was upset for days, and often spent his time locked in his study, alone James didn’t know what to do.

His parents didn’t tell he or Becca much, but moving to find work was discussed. James ignored it all, intent to enjoy what he had while he had it. They still had months to get through, and he wasn’t going to think about something that was so many months away when he finally got Steve back.

It was a happy October afternoon when it happened. Steve had been in rather poor spirits that week, and James suspected his father had broken the news to him. James didn’t want to ask, as he was determined to ignore it all.

But Steve had other plans.

He had just thrown the ball for Lucky to fetch when the words slipped out of Steve. James didn’t think he heard them quite correctly. He couldn’t have said what he thought he said, could he?

“What?” he asked, turning around. The dog returned with the ball, but James couldn’t take his eyes off of the alpha.

Steve covered his face with his hands, groaning. He looked torn, and anxious. James didn’t understand.

“I’m sorry, please don’t say anything. I know I am a complete ass for even asking you,” Steve said. Taking a deep breath, he looked back up at James, and James realized Steve _had_ asked him. He said the words. _He just asked me to marry him._

James fell to his knees and crawled over to Steve, had to be closer, couldn't stand another single second apart from him. He felt himself in disbelief, but his chest felt like it was full of fluttering butterflies, eager to be free. 

“James,” he said, Steve taking his hand. Electricity ran up James’ arm right to his heart, stopping his lungs from breathing. “I know you could not have feelings for me, which makes it completely insane that I am even asking this of you--” and James’ mouth opened to speak, to _contradict,_ to confess, but Steve cut him off. 

“I’m sorry, do not feel as though I am trying to command you, or to persuade you. This is your decision. I just wish--” he stopped, swallowing harshly, his eyes wet with tears. “I wish to help your family. You are all so important to me, and I want to give you any help I can. But your father will not take it. So I just had this stupid, crazy thought, that if you--”

“Yes,” James said, promptly shutting Steve up. Steve looked at him, mouth open, eyes wide, like he couldn’t believe James would accept.

“What?” He asked, voice sounding weak. James smiled at him, and scooted closer, taking Steve’s other hand in his.

“Yes,” he said, and like it was the easiest words he could ever say, tumbling out of his mouth before he even stopped to think, he said, “I’ll marry you.”

~*~

Two days before they were to be wed, Steve was running an errand in the village to make some arrangements while James surveyed his soon-to-be home. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but he had already seen Allaheim as his home, saw Steve as his home. It had just taken this long for him to realize it.

He walked slowly through the halls, fingertips tracing the intricate wallpaper as he revisited the empty rooms he had explored all those months ago. Slowly, he made his way to the room he knew to be Steve’s artist studio. He wanted to visit Sarah and Peggy again before he would be tied to Steve; even though they were long gone, he thought it appropriate to properly introduce himself. Perhaps he could convince Steve to hang them up somewhere where the works of art could garner their deserved attention.

Upon entering the room, however, James noticed some peculiarities. The first was that the painting of Peggy was now hung on the eastern wall, showcasing her playful smile. The other oddity was that there was a new canvas set on the easel with a cloth draped over it, and what looked to be a collection of more completed canvases resting against the easel on the floor.

James stepped forward and gingerly raised the cloth off the canvas, letting it fall to the ground. When the painting was revealed, he felt the shock in his system like a voltage shock, his eyes widening and mouth falling open.

For it was _him_ painted on the canvas.

It was him, wasn’t it? His hair was down and framing his face, his eyes smiling at the viewer with a slight pull to his lips as he looked. But the difference between this painting and any other he’d seen of Steve’s was that here there was a left hand cupping the side of his face, like the viewer was leaning forward and wanted to come in close and touch.

It was Steve. Steve’s hand, he just knew it.

“He spent days lamenting about how to get the correct shade of your eyes,” Wanda’s voice said behind him. He twirled around to look at her, see her standing in the open doorway, carrying an armful of folded linen. "A color unmatched in nature, he said."

James knew he looked surprised, his face making a complicated expression. She smiled at him knowingly as usual, and seemed to take pity on him.

“There are about five more of you in that stack there,” she said, gesturing to the covered collection by his feet, before taking her leave.

And sure enough, there were six more, all varieties of James lying lazily on the sofa in the drawing room, or standing in front of a window--one was of him reading a book, another of him lying in the grass, snoozing against a tree.

James felt overcome with emotion and wept softly, looking through the tender portraits of himself that were delicately painted by the hand of the man he loved. He could barely believe his eyes, and he spent more time than he’d like to admit looking at the images of him--not because he was vain, but because he was trying to see how Steve saw him.

There was one obvious answer, wasn’t there?

Perhaps Steve hadn’t realized it yet. Or perhaps he thought James to be indifferent. But whatever the case, James knew; he could tell just from these paintings.

_Steve loved him._

They had time--so much time, now. They had all of the time in the world, and just to themselves. James would show Steve just how much he loved him back.

By the time he got the paintings back in order and exactly how he had found them, Steve had returned from his trip to the village. James greeted him at the door, nearly breathless from his brimming emotions of light and happy and _love._ Steve came in close to cup his cheek in his hand, just like the painting.

“Hello my dear, how are you enjoying your new home?” he asked with a smile on his lips, looking like down at James like he was the most special thing in the universe, like he was a treasure to behold.

James felt himself leaning into the hand, feeling the warm there radiating into his skin, the bubble of happiness bursting in his chest. How had he never seen it before, the way Steve looked at him? Gods, it was so _obvious_ now that he knew what he was looking for.

“It is absolutely perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! <3 <3 <3
> 
> The next installment to the series will be significantly less angsty and plotty >:)

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to know what you think! <3


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